


Drained

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An undercover op ended with Diana injured, but nobody knew that Neal was hurt as well--not even Neal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drained

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the "head trauma" square on my [](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/)**hc_bingo** card, though I interpreted that prompt a bit loosely. This takes place perhaps a month after 4x05, though it doesn't specifically fit into any later S4 canon.
> 
> Additional warning for brief graphic violence.

Peter paced outside the ER waiting room, trying to burn off his useless, lingering anger. He'd talked to Hughes, he'd checked in with Jones, and he'd said everything he could possibly say to Ruiz without getting himself written up. As much as he knew that the whole disastrous op wasn't his fault, Peter couldn't help thinking that some of the responsibility was his. Diana was in there being treated and probably headed for surgery, and it wasn't acceptable. His people being hurt was never acceptable.

The problems had started when Ruiz swaggered into the White Collar office demanding to borrow some of Peter's agents and staff. Blessings from the powers that be meant that Peter didn't even have the opportunity to argue against the plan, and he was expected to be grateful that Ruiz had let him be involved at all. Of course, being involved meant watching Diana go in undercover in a situation that was clearly unstable. It meant listening in the van as Ruiz's undercover agent was shot, hearing a pain-filled shout from Diana and then nothing else. It meant watching as Neal crawled in through an air duct near Diana's last known location and hoping like hell that he hadn't just lost two people.

But Neal came through. He crawled backward out of that air duct, pulling Diana with him, her arm hastily splinted with packing tape and a power strip, the thick electrical cord trailing behind. It was a bad break, the bones visibly dislocated, but as soon as she was safe Ruiz led his agents on a raid of the building. Diana was loaded into an ambulance, and Peter grabbed Neal then followed the ambulance to the hospital.

"You did a good job there," Peter said, glancing sideways at Neal.

"Agent Johansen is dead." Neal's voice was quiet, flat.

"Damn it." Peter hadn't known the kid, but losing an agent was never okay. "You saw him?"

"You know, you hear the phrase 'right between the eyes,' but you don't think--" Neal shook his head and looked down.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm not the one who was hurt."

It was very like Neal, answering the question without answering it at all, but Peter let it go. None of them were going to be okay when one agent was dead and a second injured by Ruiz's ill-conceived operation. When they got to the hospital, Neal went to sit down in the waiting room and Peter filled out paperwork for Diana then went outside to make his calls and walk off some of his pent-up frustration. When Neal was shaken up, he always sought out space to pull himself together, and if the ER waiting room wasn't exactly quiet it was better than being forced to listen to Peter curse Ruiz's name in the chair next to him.

But Peter was, if not calm, at least prepared to table his frustrations to be dealt with later, and it was time to go check on Neal. The last time he'd been with Neal in a hospital waiting room was the day Ellen was killed, and being back in a similar situation couldn't be pleasant for him, especially combined with finding a murdered man, an agent he'd been talking to less than a day earlier. As he walked back inside, Peter expected to see Neal poking at his phone or paging through a magazine, but he was just sitting in a chair, staring across the room--at nothing in particular, as far as Peter could tell.

Up close, Neal looked pale, and as he sat down in the chair next to him Peter could see he was breathing too quickly. "Hey. You doing okay?"

Neal startled and looked over at Peter. "What?" In the shadow of the brim of his hat, Neal's forehead was beaded with sweat. "What's going on?"

"I haven't heard anything else from Diana's doctor yet." He bumped his shoulder lightly against Neal's. "Try to relax. You did a good job there today, and Diana's going to be fine thanks to you."

Neal shook his head, and if anything he looked worse. "I--I need--" He looked at Peter with wide eyes, his face a sickly white.

Peter felt a jolt of panic in his chest, but he reminded himself that he'd seen this before, that shock was natural and that Neal, for all he'd been through with them, hadn't been trained for this kind of situation. "Okay, okay, let's get your head down." Peter put his hand on Neal's back to guide him into bending over his knees, but the wool under his hand was damp and too sticky for sweat.

"What the hell," Peter whispered under his breath as he stood and pulled back the collar of Neal's jacket. The back of Neal's shirt was sodden with blood, and now that he was looking Peter could see that it was everywhere--the back of Neal's neck, soaked through the back of his hat, leaking onto the back of the chair behind him.

"I need help over here!" He shouted over his shoulder and then knelt in front of Neal. "Neal? Neal, what happened?"

Neal blinked slowly then passed out. He slid forward off the chair until Peter caught him, and as Peter was lowering him to the floor a medical team arrived with a gurney. They pulled off Neal's hat, and the sight of his hair, wet and red-black with blood, made Peter's stomach churn.

"What happened here?" Somebody asked Peter, and he shook his head.

"I didn't know he was hurt. He wasn't--he didn't say anything."

As the doctors and nurses secured Neal to the gurney he heard a jumble of words like _shock_ and _tachycardia_ , and then they raced off through the big double doors and Peter was alone. Somebody brought a clipboard full of paperwork, and Peter filled them out while he tried to figure out what had happened. He replayed it in his head--Neal backed out of the air duct, helped get Diana out, then put his hat back on his head and reported what he'd seen in there.

He hadn't said anything about being hurt or acted injured in any way but Peter cursed himself for not knowing. He'd driven to the hospital while Neal sat next to him bleeding out, and then he went outside to talk on the phone while Neal sat by himself bleeding out, and it was impossible. Unacceptable, just like the rest of the operation, the rest of the whole stupid day.

"Agent Burke?"

Peter shook himself out of his thoughts and looked up, surprised to see a familiar face. "Christie?"

She smiled, looking a little uncomfortable. "I'm Neal's doctor today. I can bring you back to see him if you'd like?"

"Please." Peter stood and looked at her, trying to figure out how bad the situation might be. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be okay."

Peter closed his eyes against the relief flooding through him then followed Christie back into the treatment area. "So what happened? I didn't even know he was hurt."

"I don't know exactly how it happened, but Neal's scalp was deeply lacerated, most likely by something like a sharp piece of metal. Scalp wounds tend to bleed heavily, and Neal lost enough blood that he went into hypovolemic shock. We're giving him fluids and a couple units of blood to get his volume back up, and we've sutured the wound. He should be able to hide the scar with his hair."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate that. But he's going to be okay?"

"We're going to keep him overnight to let the IVs finish. We'll monitor him for any further signs of shock and make sure there's no infection in his wound, and assuming all goes well he can go home in the morning. He'll be weak and need to rest for a few days, but he should recover completely." She stopped in front of a curtained-off cubicle. "He's in here. After you visit, you should really go home and let him rest."

Peter took a deep breath and let it out, feeling the anxiety of the last hour draining away. "Thank you. Before you go, do you know what's going on with Diana?"

Christie raised one eyebrow and chuffed out a short, unhappy laugh. "I only wish I knew. I thought she wanted to be with me forever, and then she didn't want to be with me at all. So whatever's going on with her--" Christie shook her head, waving her hand dismissively. "It's her problem."

She started to turn away, and Peter stopped her with a hand on her arm. "No, I meant today. Neal and I came here in the first place because Diana was hurt. I think she may have been taken to surgery, but nobody's told me anything yet."

"What?" Christie froze. "Damn it." She tore away and hurried down the hall.

Peter watched her go then pushed through the curtain to Neal's cubicle. A nurse was inside checking the IVs that led into Neal's arm, and Neal looked like he was asleep under the thick blankets. Or maybe unconscious. "Hi," Peter said, his voice low.

"M'awake," Neal mumbled. He opened his eyes to half-mast and smiled groggily. "M'okay."

"Sure you are." Peter looked up at the nurse, and she nodded her head.

"He's doing fine. We're just waiting for a room to be ready upstairs, and then he'll be transferred. I think Dr. Kahn said he'd be discharged tomorrow morning."

"Right. Thank you."

"No problem." She put her hand on Neal's arm. "You press that button if you need me, sweetie."

Neal nodded his head, then winced as she left.

" _Sweetie_?" Peter asked, not that he was even slightly shocked that Neal was managing to charm women when he was barely conscious.

Neal shrugged then let his eyes close the rest of the way.

Peter took a look at the bandage on Neal's head; lucky for Neal it didn't look like they'd shaved him bald. He put a hand on Neal's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Be good. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, okay?"

"'kay," Neal whispered, sounding half-asleep already.

Peter watched him for another moment and then pushed through the curtain back into the hallway, where he found a nurse looking for him. "Agent Burke? You were looking for information on Diana Berrigan?"

"Yes, what's going on?"

"She's in 415, and I think the doctor may be up there right now if you want to talk to him."

"Thank you." Peter found his way to the elevator and then to room 415. Diana was asleep with a bulky cast on her left arm, but she looked otherwise okay.

"Agent Burke?"

Peter turned around to see a short middle-aged man in a doctor's coat. "That's me."

"I'm Dr. White, and I'm an orthopedic specialist assigned to Ms. Berrigan. She had a displaced fracture of the humerus, but we were able to reduce it non-surgically."

"But she's been admitted anyway?"

"We did have to sedate her for the procedure. Also, we're keeping her overnight so that I can do more x-rays in the morning after the swelling has reduced to make sure that the bones are in a position to heal well, but she'll likely be able to go home tomorrow afternoon or evening."

"That's great. Thank you."

The doctor nodded and left, and Peter felt both relieved and at loose ends. Two of his people were in the hospital overnight, but both of them were going to be okay. It felt like a strange piece of luck in an otherwise cursed day. Diana seemed unlikely to wake up anytime soon, so Peter left. He checked in with Jones and Hughes. He went home and fed his dog and talked to Elizabeth on the phone. He gave his thanks that, unlike Ruiz, he wasn't going to be burying any of his people.

~~~

The next morning, Peter called ahead to find out that Neal was in fact being discharged, and when he got to the hospital he took a quick detour to the fourth floor to check on Diana. The sound of her throaty laughter as he walked down the hall was a very good sign but then the laugh cut off abruptly. Peter stepped into her doorway, completely unnoticed as Christie climbed up to sit next to Diana on the bed. Diana's good arm was around Christie's back, pulling her closer as they kissed like their lives depended on it.

Flushed with embarrassment, Peter stepped out of the doorway and headed back toward the elevators. Clearly, Diana was having a very good morning. Up on the seventh floor, Neal was, much to Peter's relief, not making out with anybody. He was still pale, but he was awake and smiling as Peter walked through the door.

"I hope there are clothes for me in that bag."

Peter held up the cloth grocery bag in his hand. "You mean you don't want to go home in that hospital gown?"

"Not really. And my suit's only suited for burning." Neal shook his head, then touched his hand to the bandages.

Peter ran a hand over his face and thought of all that blood--black on Neal's suit and hat, red on his hair, his skin, red on Peter's hand. "You should've told me you were hurt."

"I didn't know, I swear. I remember feeling a scratch from something inside the air duct, but I didn't have any idea it was bleeding. I was just focused on getting the job done, and then I thought I was reeling from the adrenaline come-down. Then it just crept up on me."

"Well, I'm sorry that it took me so long to realize you needed help."

"You can apologize by giving me my clothes."

Peter handed Neal the bag, and Neal turned to sit on the side of the bed. "Wait, Diana's okay?"

"She's fine. She should be going home later today after they make sure her arm's going to heal right."

"Good." Neal sighed with relief then stood and wavered in place.

Peter lunged forward to get a hold on Neal's arm. "Whoa, hey."

Neal steadied himself and stepped out of Peter's hold. "I'm okay. The doctor who discharged me this morning said that I'd be a little weak for a day or two until my blood levels get back to normal. I'm going to have a huge steak for dinner and get drunk on one glass of wine, it's great." Neal took his clothes into the bathroom and closed the door halfway.

"Yeah, really great," Peter groused to himself. "Hey," he called out to Neal, "speaking of great, you won't believe what I saw when I stopped by Diana's room this morning."

"Christie?"

"How did you know?"

"I'm just a people person."

"Even when you're barely conscious?"

"What can I say? Wait, did you get an eyeful?"

Peter felt himself blushing again. "Oh, yeah."

Neal laughed, something Peter might have called a giggle if Neal weren't a grown man.

Peter knew that the fallout from Ruiz's disastrous op was far from over, he knew that it was only one set of problems among many that needed to be resolved, but for the moment his team, his family, was okay. It was a good day, and Peter would take it. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story has a timestamp [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2166360/chapters/4737303).


End file.
